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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29045067">Parachute Jump</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eigon/pseuds/Eigon'>Eigon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aftermath of Torture, Aziraphale's Platoon, Discorporation (Good Omens), Holy Water, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, mention of suicide</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 06:02:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,894</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29045067</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eigon/pseuds/Eigon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Aziraphale gets to do James Bond stuff....<br/>It's the height of the Cold War, and there's a demon in Bulgaria.<br/>And I think I've found a plausible explanation for how Aziraphale came to be in possession of a thermos flask of holy water.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale &amp; Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. A Demon in Bulgaria</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aziraphale had never intended to volunteer for parachute training.  It was just one of those things that happened to him.<br/>
</p><p>
It began when two men in smart suits came to visit the bookshop.  He never did learn their real names, but that was only to be expected when they were quite clearly spies.<br/>
</p><p>
"Mr Fell?  Might we have a private word?"<br/>
Intrigued, Aziraphale took them into the back room, where they sat together on the sofa while he took his usual armchair.<br/>
</p><p>
The man who was taking the lead in the conversation showed Aziraphale an official looking ID card, marked Ministry of Defence.<br/>
Aziraphale sat up straighter in his armchair.  It was more official documentation than Rose (or whatever her name had been) in the War had volunteered to him.  He'd been rather carried away with the excitement of it all in 1941, of course.  This time, he was more wary, and quite prepared to look into their minds to see how genuine they were.<br/>
Completely genuine, as far as he could tell.<br/>
</p><p>
"Now, we're coming to you in the strictest confidence, because our sources tell us you have expert knowledge that could help Her Majesty's Government."<br/>
</p><p>
"I'll do whatever I can to help, of course," Aziraphale said.<br/>
</p><p>
"Good, good...."  The man looked uneasy, as if this were a conversation he would rather not be having.  "It's – your occult knowledge that we're interested in, Mr Fell."<br/>
</p><p>
Aziraphale smiled politely.  "Have you tried the Atlantis Bookshop[1]?  They have several experts they can call upon."<br/>
</p><p>
"I'm afraid the Atlantis Bookshop sent us away with a flea in our ear, as it were," the man said.  "They suggested you might be able to help."  He cleared his throat, looking anywhere but at Aziraphale.  You see – we've had reports of a," he laughed nervously, "a demon in Bulgaria."<br/>
</p><p>
"Isn't that rather a matter for the church?" Aziraphale asked.<br/>
</p><p>
"I suppose it would be, normally," the man said.  He still looked very uncomfortable.  "You see, we have information that this particular demon – sounds ridiculous when you say it out loud – this particular demon is being used by the Bulgarian Communist Party to influence political events, and with the civil war in Cyprus...."<br/>
</p><p>
Privately, Aziraphale thought that it was probably the other way round – that the Bulgarian Communist Party were being used by the demon for whatever purposes Hell had sent it – and which probably had very little to do with the human political situation in the region.<br/>
"Have your sources provided a name for this demon?" he asked.  "It's always helpful to have a name to look up."<br/>
</p><p>
The man consulted a small notebook.  "They said Abigar," he said.  "Does that mean anything to you?"<br/>
</p><p>
"Abigar?" Aziraphale repeated.  "Oh, dear."</p><p>~</p><p>The men left, with Aziraphale's assurance that he would help in whatever way he could ringing in their ears.  "I'll get started with some research straight away," he assured them, as he ushered them out of the door, turning the shop sign to 'Closed' (it was late afternoon anyway).  As soon as they were gone, he rolled back the carpet under the oculus, and set out the candles around the summoning circle to contact Heaven.<br/>
</p><p>
"Earth Observation Department, Penemue here, how can I help?" said the disembodied voice.<br/>
</p><p>
"Ah, hello, Principality Aziraphale here.  Ah, were you going to tell me about the demon in Bulgaria?" he asked.  Or were you going to leave it as a surprise? He added, silently.<br/>
</p><p>
Penemue made a surprised sound, and Aziraphale could hear the rustling of papers.  "Nanael has been dealing with this," Penemue said at last, "so we didn't think it necessary to inform you.  Bulgaria is a long way from England, after all."<br/>
</p><p>
Aziraphale sighed.  They still hadn't really understood in Heaven that, even after the War, when the Empire started to break up, Great Britain had territory and interests all over the world.  He tried to remember if he'd mentioned the present difficulties in the region over the status of Cyprus, which had set Greece and Turkey at odds with each other –  the British had military bases on Cyprus, which gave them a strong interest in the outcome of the conflict, and Bulgaria had borders with both countries.  "I'll explain it all in my next report," he said, with a small sigh.  "You see, two gentlemen from the human authorities have visited me and asked for my advice."<br/>
</p><p>
"Oh!  Well, if that's the case...."  There was the sound of Penemue murmuring to someone else in the background.  "You may as well go and finish the job."<br/>
</p><p>
"So, I should get in touch with Nanael in Bulgaria?"<br/>
</p><p>
"Ah, no."  More rustling of papers.  "I'm afraid they were inconveniently discorporated last week, and they refuse to go back."<br/>
</p><p>
"I'd rather like to speak to Nanael," Aziraphale said.  "So I have a better idea of what I'm up against?"  I don't want to be inconveniently discorporated too.<br/>
</p><p>
"We'll arrange a meeting."  And the connection was cut off.</p><p>~</p><p>Now he had the go ahead from Heaven, he could go back to "Mr Smith" from the Ministry, and indicate that helping as much as he could would include insisting that he went to Bulgaria to deal with the demon personally.  He wasn't entirely sure what he would do when he got there, but Nanael might be able to enlighten him there.  </p><p>~</p><p>Aziraphale was ushered into a small meeting room as soon as he arrived in Heaven.  It was rather a relief that he wasn't expected to have this conversation out in one of the big halls – at least they would have some privacy.<br/>
</p><p>
Nanael was already there, sitting on a pale grey office chair at one end of the long white table.  Aziraphale's immediate impression was of a stocky person with olive skin and a long black braid down her back.  She was wearing a military kilt and jacket.<br/>
She was also hunched over, and twisting her hands together in her lap.<br/>
</p><p>
Quietly, Aziraphale pulled up another chair next to her and sat down.<br/>
</p><p>
"I'm not going back there," she said, without looking at him.  "I won't."<br/>
</p><p>
"I'm not here to make you go back," Aziraphale said gently.  "I'm being sent in your place – but before I go,  I need to be prepared.  You will help me, won't you?"<br/>
</p><p>
Nanael began to cry quietly.  "We didn't know it was Abigar," she began.  "I'm sure, if we'd known, I would have been given back up."  She turned to him then, her eyes full of desperate hope.  "They would have given me back up, wouldn't they?"<br/>
</p><p>
Aziraphale patted her hand gently, but he couldn't answer her.  He hoped she was right, but he didn't know.<br/>
</p><p>
Nanael snuffled, and Aziraphale handed her a handkerchief.<br/>
"I've never been discorporated before," she said.  "I wasn't expecting – well, so much blood."<br/>
</p><p>
"I'm sorry to have to ask this, but what did Abigar do?"<br/>
</p><p>
"He didn't do anything himself.  It was the humans.  He was just there, in the background, watching.  Encouraging them."  She looked up again.  "Aziraphale, I wasn't expecting it to hurt so much."<br/>
</p><p>
"I know it's very distressing," he said, "but if I'm to go up against Abigar, I need to know what to expect."<br/>
</p><p>
"You can expect to be discorporated, painfully," Nanael said bitterly.  "He's a Duke of Hell, and we're only Principalities."<br/>
</p><p>
"Don't worry, my dear.  I've learned a few tricks after six thousand years as a field agent."<br/>
</p><p>
She stared at him.  "I'd heard the rumours.  I didn't think they were true.  You've really been down on Earth all that time?"<br/>
</p><p>
"Most of it, yes.  I am recalled to Heaven from time to time, for reports, and briefings, and so on.  Now, what else can you tell me about Abigar?"</p><p>~</p><p>After he'd seen Nanael, he went straight to Penemue's office.<br/>
</p><p>
"You've spoken to Nanael, then," Penemue said.  "When can we expect you to get to Bulgaria?"<br/>
</p><p>
Aziraphale stood very straight in front of the desk.  If Penemue had known him better, she would have recognised his expression.  It was the same one that a person who mistreated one of his books saw, just before he threw them out of the bookshop.<br/>
</p><p>
"Do you really expect me to face a Duke of Hell alone?"  he asked, incredulously.<br/>
</p><p>
"Nanael was unlucky.  You will be better prepared," Penemue said.<br/>
</p><p>
"So you'll just keep sending Principalities down one by one until we've all been inconveniently discorporated?  Nanael needed back up.  She couldn't do it alone, and neither can I."<br/>
</p><p>
"Are you refusing the mission?" Penemue asked.<br/>
</p><p>
"Of course not," he snapped, "but I need back up."<br/>
</p><p>
Penemue considered for a moment.  "I suppose we could ask your platoon for volunteers.  How many will you need?"<br/>
</p><p>
"I think six should be ample – and the humans are insisting on sending a small team as well.  I shall go in with them, as their specialist in the occult."  He gave a small smile then.  "They say they're going to teach me how to use a parachute," he said.<br/>
</p><p>
"There is something else," Penemue rose from their desk and tugged their jacket straight.  "We weren't going to send you in completely unprotected.  Come this way."<br/>
</p><p>
Aziraphale followed them down several corridors until they came to another echoing hall.  A fountain made of smooth, pale cream marble stood in the middle of it.  The only sound was the gentle splashing of water over the rim of the upper bowl.<br/>
</p><p>
Michael stood, at parade rest, beside the fountain.  She nodded at Aziraphale in greeting.  "Principality.  You are aware, of course, that there is a non-aggression pact with Hell - until the Apocalypse, of course?  Sending a Duke of Hell to help the humans in a war breaks that pact, so we feel completely justified in giving you this weapon against him.  I cannot emphasise strongly enough that this is a weapon of last resort.  Use it only if there is no other choice.  We do not want war to break out prematurely."<br/>
She indicated the fountain.<br/>
</p><p>
"Holy water?"<br/>
</p><p>
"The holiest."<br/>
</p><p>
This really was serious, then.  Heaven didn't give out the holiest of holy water willy-nilly.<br/>
</p><p>
After a moment's thought, Aziraphale miracled a thermos flask into being, marked with his own personal design of tartan.  He dipped the thermos into the fountain, and screwed the lid on tightly.<br/>
</p><p>
"I've authorised Principality Aziraphale to take six volunteers with him from his platoon," Penemue said, turning to Michael.<br/>
</p><p>
Michael glanced at Aziraphale in surprise, and with a hint of respect.  "A heptagram?" she asked.<br/>
</p><p>
"That was the general idea," Aziraphale said.<br/>
</p><p>
She nodded briskly.  "One more thing," she added.  "Remember that Abigar can predict the future – but not in absolute terms.  He will know you're coming, but he can't be sure of what you will do.  Try to be confusing, Aziraphale."<br/>
</p><p>
Aziraphale smiled nervously.  "I'll do my best."<br/>
</p><p>
"I'll arrange for your platoon to meet with you now," Penemue said, with a glance at Michael for permission.  "Once you're in position on the ground, the volunteers can join you there."</p><p>~</p><p>Keeping up to date with his military career was one of those jobs that Aziraphale had to fit in around all his other duties,.  He appreciated the importance of being battle-ready for Armageddon, but there were just so many other things he needed to do.  Usually he managed to check in with the captain of his company about once a century, and spend a little time re-acquainting himself with his platoon.  Over the millennia he had been able to keep them up to date on human military developments, though it had been much harder to keep up with new weaponry and styles of fighting since the use of gunpowder for military purposes became widespread.<br/>
</p><p>
They were waiting for him in another echoing, bright Heavenly hall.  Sergeant Hahasiah had already drawn up the troops on parade, in three rows of eight, with the signaller to one side.<br/>
</p><p>
"Stand easy," Aziraphale said, suddenly very aware that he was not in uniform himself.  "This is an informal meeting, not a parade.  I expect Penemue told you that I'm looking for volunteers for a mission on Earth," he went on, as the platoon went from attention to standing at ease.  "It's a dangerous mission – we'll be going up against Abigar, Duke of Hell, and I don't know how many demons he will have with him.  I have authorisation to take six angels with me, so I thought the fairest thing was to choose two from each section."<br/>
</p><p>
"We all want to go, sir," Hahasiah said.<br/>
</p><p>
"Really?  All of you?"<br/>
</p><p>
There was enthusiastic agreement from the ranks.<br/>
</p><p>
Aziraphale had been expecting this to be a matter of military angels just doing their duty, but – he could feel the love, from all of them.  This wasn't duty, it was genuine affection, and for a moment, he didn't know what to say.<br/>
</p><p>
He tugged uncomfortably at the bottom of his waistcoat, and stood up a bit straighter.  "Yes, well, thank you all.  Um, Sergeant Hahasiah, do you think you could start by recommending a Corporal for the team?"<br/>
</p><p>
Three angels immediately did their best to look very keen.<br/>
</p><p>
"I think Zuphlas would be the best choice for this mission, sir," Hahasiah said.<br/>
</p><p>
Two angelic Corporals looked disappointed.  Corporal Zuphlas stepped forward smartly and saluted, grinning broadly.<br/>
He chose Sachael from his section, and the rest of the platoon drew straws.  It didn't take long for Manakel, Haniel and Bariel (who were inseparable – Aziraphale suspected them of cheating somehow to stay together), and Calerna to step forward.<br/>
</p><p>
Aziraphale surveyed the troops who were left.  "I'd just like to say thank you," he said.  "I'd take all of you, if I could – if I'd realised how much it means to you all."<br/>
</p><p>
"That's all right, sir," said Vehuel, the signaller.  "The rest of us will get a chance another time."<br/>
</p><p>
"I hope so," Aziraphale said.  "Now, everyone is dismissed, except for my volunteers."  As the rest of the platoon began to leave, Aziraphale gathered his volunteers around him.  "Now, we need to do a little bit of practice.  Here's what I want you to do...."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Angels in Bulgaria</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Aziraphale finds himself leading a mission against a Duke of Hell.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The bar at RAF Abingdon was busy that evening.  Jumping Instructor Marchment sat on a stool at the bar with a pint of Mackeson in his hand and surveyed his new trainees, who were sitting round a table near the window.  Most of them were young men training for the Para Reserves, in uniform.  The one exception was an older man with almost white hair, who was wearing a plain olive green flight suit with no badges.<br/>
</p><p>
"New trainees shaping up all right?"   Squadron Leader Parker asked, leaning on the bar to the Jumping Instructor's right.<br/>
</p><p>
"Pretty fair, sir," Marchment said.  "They're a good bunch of lads – and then there's this civilian got added to the group at the last minute – hush-hush stuff.  I mean – look at him!  Bent as a nine bob note[2], bit of a gut, looks like he never does any regular exercise if he can help it...."<br/>
</p><p>
"Bit of a lost cause, then?" Parker said.<br/>
</p><p>
"That's just it, sir," Marchment said, "all this week, I've only had to tell him something once, and he's got it, straight away.  I thought he'd come a cropper when we started doing the higher jumps from the tower, but no – good head for heights, tucks in and does the forward roll, no problem."<br/>
</p><p>
"Maybe he did some training in the War – he looks about the right age."<br/>
</p><p>
PJI Marchment laughed.  "I asked him what he did in the War," he said.  "He smiled – like he's smiling now – and said he ran a bookshop!  I let it go, but that's got to be bullshit!  I reckon he was in the Commandos or something.  I mean, look at that straight back!"<br/>
</p><p>
They looked across at the civilian, who was indeed sitting very straight in his chair, and smiling at something one of the 'lads' had said.</p><p>~</p><p> By the end of the second week, Aziraphale's flight suit had one badge sewn to it – the 'lightbulb' parachute badge that he had been presented with on completion of the course[3].  He was rather absurdly proud of it, since he'd achieved it without the aid of any miracles at all.<br/>
The obvious thing to do, that evening, was to head to the bar to celebrate.<br/>
</p><p>
"Well done, Grandad," one of the lads said.  Aziraphale didn't take offence.  They seemed to call anyone over the age of thirty 'Grandad' as far as he could see, and they'd been pleasant enough company over the previous two weeks.<br/>
</p><p>
"We didn't think you had it in you," one of the others said.<br/>
</p><p>
"Not to start with, anyway."<br/>
</p><p>
The fourth one (they looked so similar that Aziraphale had trouble telling them apart, even now) grinned.  "We soon learned better," he said.<br/>
</p><p>
As the oldest, and presumably the one with most disposable income, Aziraphale bought the first round at the bar.  There were some new faces there tonight, in a uniform that was unfamiliar to him, with sand coloured berets marked with a badge of a winged dagger.  Maybe they were here to go on a course as well.</p><p>~</p><p>"That's our civilian," Lt. Ryan said, nodding unobtrusively towards Aziraphale.<br/>
</p><p>
"So, we're nursemaiding a poofta, then?" Trooper Cowles said.<br/>
</p><p>
"Language," Lt. Ryan warned.<br/>
</p><p>
"Well, it's bleedin' obvious, ain't it, sir?" Cowles protested.<br/>
</p><p>
"Doesn't matter," Ryan said.  "We've got the job of protecting him, and we'll protect him, to the best of our ability.  Clear, Trooper?"<br/>
</p><p>
"Sir."<br/>
</p><p>
"So, let's just have a relaxing evening, shall we?  Go off and play a game of darts or something."</p><p>~</p><p>The following morning, Aziraphale was summoned to one of the briefing rooms to meet the team who were going to go with him to Bulgaria.<br/>
"Ah, I saw you in the bar last night," he said cheerfully as he came through the door.<br/>
</p><p>
The one with the more detailed cap badge and one pip on his epaulettes turned to shake his hand.  "Mr Fell?  I'm Second Lieutenant Ryan, and this is my team, Troopers Wiseman, Cowles and Scholey."<br/>
</p><p>
Aziraphale shook their hands.  They all had extremely firm handshakes, and looked as if they were built of solid muscle.  None of them looked much impressed by him.<br/>
</p><p>
"We're going to be your bodyguard when we go into Bulgaria, Mr Fell," Lt. Ryan said.<br/>
</p><p>
"That's very re-assuring," Aziraphale said.  He sat down at the end of the row of chairs in front of the map of Bulgaria on the wall, with a couple of empty chairs between him and Wiseman.<br/>
</p><p>
Ryan tapped the map with his pointer.  "According to our information, the target is holed up here, in some sort of castle or country house.  Top brass from the Bulgarian military have been seen coming and going for weeks.  Our job is to get Mr Fell here into the house where he can do – what exactly is it that you're going to do, Mr Fell?"<br/>
</p><p>
"It's best you don't know, I'm afraid," Aziraphale said apologetically.  "But if all goes well I should be able to get rid of the problem."  He made no comment on what would happen if all didn't go well.  It was entirely possible that he would be discorporated – and in that case these young men wouldn't be getting home, either.<br/>
</p><p>
"Right, so, Mr Fell does his hush-hush stuff - which we don't want to know about," Ryan went on, "and which may or may not involve an assassination attempt."<br/>
</p><p>
The three troopers turned to stare at Aziraphale in something approaching disbelief.  He smiled back at them placidly.<br/>
</p><p>
"Then we get out as fast as we can for the Greek border," Ryan went on.  "Everything clear?"<br/>
</p><p>
"As mud, sir," said Cowles.<br/>
</p><p>
Everyone laughed.</p><p>~</p><p>They flew out the next morning for Cyprus, which was terribly interesting.  Aziraphale had never travelled long distance on an aeroplane before.   Then, in the late afternoon, they boarded the de Havilland Dragon[4] which would take them north to make the parachute jump by night.</p><p>~</p><p>"We're coming up over the drop zone," Ryan said, over the roar of the engines.  The de Havilland Dragon was flying straight and steady, high over the hills of rural Bulgaria.  He opened the door, and the noise immediately got a lot louder, the sound of the slipstream mingling with the engine noise.  "Okay, ready to go now."<br/>
Scholey stepped to the door and jumped.  "Where's Mr Fell?" Ryan asked.  "Remember – count to ten then pull the rip cord."<br/>
</p><p>
Somehow, Mr Fell, the least experienced of the team, had ended up behind the others, but he looked confident enough as he got to the open door.  He jumped – and it was only then Ryan noticed that he was not wearing his parachute.  Horror-stricken, he looked down from the door to see Mr Fell falling.<br/>
</p><p>
He had to jump next, and as he did, he saw white wings unfurling from the falling figure, who started to glide like some sort of giant swan....</p><p>*****</p><p>It really was rather exhilarating, Aziraphale thought, as he jumped.  He'd never started flying from so high up before.  It was a shame to worry poor Lt. Ryan, but when Aziraphale turned up safe and well he'd soon convince himself that he'd been mistaken, and that Mr Fell had been wearing a parachute all along.<br/>
He looked down at the tops of the parachutes of the rest of the team.  They were well clustered together and heading for the drop zone.  Lt. Ryan's parachute was just above and behind him, so he circled wide and rose above it.  The de Havilland Dragon was already turning back the way they had come.<br/>
</p><p>
From his higher vantage point, he began to look for a place to land where they wouldn't see him.  There was a band of trees along one side of the flat field they'd chosen, with some sloping open ground beyond it that would do admirably.<br/>
He was almost sad to land.  That had been fun!<br/>
</p><p>
Now came the serious business, though.  He furled his wings away, and started to walk down the hill and through the trees to the drop zone.  As he went, he took off the rather uncomfortable helmet he'd been issued with.</p><p>~</p><p>Down on the field, the rest of the team were bundling up their parachutes.<br/>
</p><p>
"Where's Mr Fell?" Ryan asked.  "Did anyone see what happened to him?"  Did anyone else see what I saw? He wondered.  Mr Fell falling without a parachute, and...  No, he couldn't possibly have seen the wings.<br/>
</p><p>
"You all right sir?" Wiseman asked.  "He's probably just drifted off course a bit.  We'll find him."<br/>
</p><p>
"Stow your parachutes away first," Ryan said, automatically.  Training always kicked in, even when you were sure you'd just seen one of your team basically committing suicide at the start of the mission.<br/>
</p><p>
"I hope he hasn't got caught up in a tree somewhere," said Cowles.<br/>
</p><p>
There was a slight movement at the edge of the trees, and a familiar calm voice.  "It's all right.  I'm here."  Aziraphale stepped out from the trees.<br/>
</p><p>
"Thank Christ for that," Ryan said.  "What happened?"<br/>
</p><p>
"Couldn't quite control the toggle thingies," Aziraphale said.  "I landed on the other side of the trees."<br/>
</p><p>
"But I saw...."<br/>
</p><p>
Mr Fell smiled kindly.  "You saw me make a parachute jump, dear boy."<br/>
</p><p>
Ryan nodded doubtfully.  "Yes, of course – that's what I saw....  All right, chaps, let's get a move on then."  He produced a map and a very small torch to read it by.  "According to our informants, the castle should be this way...."</p><p>~</p><p>"Sir?" Wiseman said quietly.  "It looks as if someone's waiting for us up ahead."<br/>
</p><p>
Ryan raised a hand, and they all came to a halt under cover of the hedge at the side of the lane.<br/>
</p><p>
Aziraphale stepped forward.  "It's all right.  These are the reinforcements I arranged for."<br/>
</p><p>
"Re-inf...?  No-one told me about any reinforcements."<br/>
</p><p>
"Yes, well, they're a bit – unconventional, shall we say?  Corporal Zuphlas – you can come out now."<br/>
</p><p>
Half a dozen pale, ghostly figures appeared in the lane.  They might possibly have been glowing faintly – unless that was just the moonlight on their pale uniforms.  They were wearing kilts, and they were armed with swords.<br/>
</p><p>
"Christ!  It's a bunch of bloody Highlanders!" Scholey said.<br/>
</p><p>
"Not exactly," Aziraphale said.  "It's my platoon – some of them, at any rate.  Lt. Ryan, may I present Corporal Zuphlas?  And this is Sachael, and Manakel, Haniel and Bariel, and Calerna.  They'll be invaluable once we get close to Abigar."</p><p>~</p><p>It wasn't a castle, though it did have a round tower at one end.  It was more like a manor house, set in spacious grounds that would probably be very attractive in daylight.  Calerna and Wiseman crept closer to do a recce while the rest of the team lurked in the shrubbery.<br/>
</p><p>
"I think I saw the target," Wiseman said, as soon as he returned.  "There's a man in  that ground floor room there, where the light's on.  Looks like a high ranking officer, lots of gold braid.  He's sitting back with his feet on his desk, sir, almost as if he's waiting for us."<br/>
</p><p>
"That's where we need to be, then," Aziraphale said to his platoon.<br/>
</p><p>
"They've got wards up on every entrance around the ground floor, sir," Calerna reported.  "I estimate about twenty demons – can't tell if there are any humans."<br/>
</p><p>
"Hang on – demons?" Ryan asked.  "You're not serious, are you?"<br/>
</p><p>
Scholey and Cowles were sniggering.<br/>
</p><p>
"I'm entirely serious, Lieutenant," Aziraphale said.  "I'm very sorry to have got you involved in a conflict between Heaven and Hell, but there was no alternative that readily presented itself.  I'm here to exorcise a senior demon who has been advising the Bulgarian military.  You can call it an assassination if it makes you feel more comfortable.  Don't worry – you won't have to do anything you haven't trained for."<br/>
</p><p>
Lt. Ryan shook his head.  "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear any of that," he said.  "As far as I'm concerned, we're here to keep you safe while you do what you need to do – and we don't need to know what you need to do."<br/>
</p><p>
"That's the spirit, Lieutenant," Aziraphale said.  "Just keep concentrating on what you can understand, and leave the rest to me and my team.  Lt. Ryan – your men won't be affected by wards, so I'm afraid it's up to you to make the full frontal assault.  If you'd be so good as to make it loud and messy?"<br/>
</p><p>
"You want a diversion," Ryan said.  "We can certainly make a good attempt at pretending to storm the front door – obvious and probably the best guarded entrance.  What are you going to be doing?"<br/>
</p><p>
Aziraphale stepped back onto the lawn.  It was hidden from the house by the shrubbery.  His platoon followed him.  "Remember – we need to get to the room where the light is on, and once we're there, we need to surround Abigar and activate the heptagram.  Remember who you're paired with for that."  He clicked his fingers, and a short sword appeared in his hand.<br/>
</p><p>
Then he unfurled his wings.  Lt. Ryan's jaw dropped.  So he had seen wings, after all....<br/>
</p><p>
"We'll be up on the roof," Aziraphale said.  "I suspect Abigar won't have thought to place wards up there.  Demons have no imagination, and he seems to be thinking like a human.  From there we should have a clear run through the house."<br/>
</p><p>
The rest of the angels spread their wings.  They took off surprisingly quietly for beings with such wide wingspans.<br/>
</p><p>
The SAS squad stared after them, gaping.<br/>
</p><p>
"Did that really just happen?" Scholey asked.<br/>
</p><p>
Lt. Ryan blinked hard.  He could see a flurry of white wings around the roof of the house.  "You heard Mr Fell," he said.  "Let's give him that diversion he wants."</p><p>~</p><p>The angels encountered no resistance as they crept through the upper floors of the house.  Aziraphale led them down the back stairs – the front stairs led into the hallway at the front door, where a loud fire fight was going on.  Abigar's demonic forces seemed to have taken rather enthusiastically to the use of machine guns.<br/>
</p><p>
Abigar was alone in a room which may have been intended as a dining room.  At any rate, it was next to the kitchen.  His desk was near the middle of the room, with other desks and tables against the walls, where maps hung instead of paintings.  He was listening to the fighting with a look of satisfaction on his face – a look which turned to disbelief as the angels came in by the door to the kitchen.  He pushed back his chair and stood to face them.<br/>
</p><p>
"Good evening," Aziraphale said pleasantly.  He came to a halt near the kitchen door, to one side of the desk.  He wanted to keep Abigar's attention on him, rather than on the other angels, who were quietly spreading out round the room.  "I'm Nanael's replacement," he went on.  "You might remember her?"<br/>
</p><p>
"Oh, was that her name?" Abigar asked.  "The one we tortured until she discorporated?   If you met her, then you know what you have to look forward to, little Principality."<br/>
</p><p>
"Oh, I think we're better prepared this time," Aziraphale said.<br/>
</p><p>
Abigar smiled, and it was not a pleasant smile.  "I command sixty legions of Hell," he said.  "The demons out there are some of my crack troops.  You've got – what?  Less than half a platoon?  With short swords?  All I have to do is summon my troops, and you're toast."<br/>
</p><p>
"Please, feel free," Aziraphale said calmly.  He wasn't sure how he made it sound natural – now he was actually facing a real Duke of Hell, his throat was feeling rather dry.<br/>
</p><p>
Abigar clicked his fingers, and the double doors to the hall swung open.  "Furcas!  Regroup in here," Abigar shouted.<br/>
</p><p>
Aziraphale raised his sword just as the first demon came through the door, pointing at Manakel.  Manakel was pointing at Bariel, and a line of white light sprang from Aziraphale's sword, to Manakel, to Bariel and around the circle of angels in the shape of a seven pointed star.<br/>
</p><p>
The demons skidded to a halt just inside the doors.  They were wearing a wild mix of military styles, from Hussar jackets to First World War khaki, to Napoleonic cavalry helmets.  With machine guns.<br/>
</p><p>
Abigar, trapped in the centre of the star, laughed.  "Do you really think this will hold me for long?" he asked.<br/>
</p><p>
"It doesn't have to hold you for long," Aziraphale said.  He looked over Abigar's shoulder, to the hall where the SAS squad were cautiously advancing.  "In here, Lt. Ryan, if you please."<br/>
</p><p>
The humans skirted round the demons, and Lt. Ryan came to stand just behind Aziraphale.<br/>
</p><p>
"If you wouldn't mind taking a thermos flask out of the zipped up pocket in my trousers?" Aziraphale asked.  "I'm afraid I don't have a hand free at the moment."<br/>
</p><p>
Lt. Ryan, wary of the web of light emanating from Aziraphale, bent to do as he said.<br/>
</p><p>
"Good.  Now, I'd like you to open the flask and pour out a cup of the contents, carefully."<br/>
</p><p>
Abigar frowned.  "What are you doing?" he asked.  "What is that?"<br/>
</p><p>
"I brought holy water with me," Aziraphale said.<br/>
</p><p>
"YOU WOULDN'T DARE!" Abigar bellowed.<br/>
</p><p>
"Not only would I dare, but I have been authorised by the Archangel Michael herself."<br/>
</p><p>
"But... the non-aggression pact...."<br/>
</p><p>
"Which you broke.  Go back to Hell, Duke Abigar, or my human friend here will throw the contents of that cup all over you."<br/>
</p><p>
Lt. Ryan started to move round the circle to get closer to the demon.  The rest of the demons had now shuffled back into the corner of the room.  One of them was trying to hide under a sideboard.<br/>
</p><p>
Abigar snarled.<br/>
</p><p>
"What exactly will this do, as a matter of interest?" Lt. Ryan asked, over his shoulder.<br/>
</p><p>
"It will destroy him," Aziraphale said.<br/>
</p><p>
"All right, then.  I think I'm close enough now...."<br/>
</p><p>
"Stop!  Curse you, Principality – I'll go!"<br/>
Abigar began to sink into the floor.  Behind him, his troops began to sink into the floor too.<br/>
"I'll remember you at Armageddon, Principality," Abigar warned.  "I'll take great pleasure in pulling your wings off like a fly."<br/>
</p><p>
Aziraphale gave a little, hard smile.  "You're welcome to try," he said.<br/>
</p><p>
He held the seven-pointed star until they had all gone, then let it go with a sigh of relief.  It had taken a lot of power to keep it going for so long, even with the seven of them contributing.  The lines of white light faded until they were just an afterglow in the suddenly dim room.<br/>
</p><p>
"Stand down," Aziraphale said, lowering his sword, "and if you wouldn't mind pouring the water back into the flask, Lt. Ryan?"<br/>
</p><p>
Ryan did so, and handed it back.<br/>
"Has he really gone?"<br/>
</p><p>
Aziraphale nodded, and smiled a genuine smile this time, with all the relief of the confrontation being over in it.  "Mission accomplished," he said.<br/>
</p><p>
"Then we'd better get out of here.  It's a long way to the Greek border."  Ryan waved his hand at the angels.  "What about them?"<br/>
</p><p>
"Oh, they'll make their own way home."<br/>
</p><p>
All the angels were grinning broadly.<br/>
Corporal Zuphlas saluted smartly.  "That was – resplendent, sir!" he said.<br/>
</p><p>
"Fantastic!"<br/>
</p><p>
"Brilliant!"<br/>
</p><p>
"Awesome!"<br/>
</p><p>
Aziraphale grinned back.  "It did work rather well, didn't it?"  He shook all their hands, in the human fashion.  "Well, I don't suppose I'll see you for another fifty years or so...."<br/>
</p><p>
"Good luck, sir."<br/>
</p><p>
"Thank you – and I'm very proud of all of you."<br/>
</p><p>
The air was suddenly full of wings.  There shouldn't have been enough room for them, but somehow it worked.  The angels disappeared upwards in a shimmer of dazzling light.<br/>
Aziraphale turned back to the SAS squad.  "Now, I suppose we're going to steal a car or something, aren't we?"</p><p>Epilogue</p><p>Three days later, Aziraphale opened the door of the bookshop, and went inside.  All that excitement was all very well, but it was good to be back home at last.  He went into the kitchen to put the kettle on.<br/>
While the kettle was boiling, he unpacked his bag.  Most of the space was taken up by the flight suit, with that parachute badge he was so proud of, and wrapped in the flight suit was the tartan thermos flask.<br/>
</p><p>
Aziraphale picked it up and  turned it over in his hands.  In all the excitement, Heaven seemed to have forgotten about it.<br/>
</p><p>
When Lt. Ryan had asked what the holy water would do, slowly a memory had come bobbing to the surface of his mind from whatever deep place he had thrust it down to.  A sunny day in St. James' Park.  A note that had horrified him.  "It would destroy you," he'd said – and he hadn't seen Crowley again for eighty years.<br/>
After all that time, even in the middle of rescuing him from the Nazis, Crowley still hadn't been able to ignore the font in the church.  "It hasn't even got a guard," he'd said.<br/>
</p><p>
Aziraphale wasn't sure where Crowley was now – but he thought he might start asking around.  The thought of getting holy water anywhere near Crowley still appalled him, but....<br/>
</p><p>
He should have said yes, in 1862.  He should have trusted that Crowley knew what he was doing.  He hoped he wasn't too late to trust Crowley now.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>[2] "bent as a nine bob note"  A bob is slang for a shilling in British pre-decimal coinage.  There were ten bob notes (equalling 50p) but never any nine bob notes – so it means obviously illegal, or bent, and was a common phrase meaning that a person was gay.<br/>[3] The basic military parachute course, for the Reserves, lasted two weeks.  Aziraphale got a badge with just a parachute and no wings (known as the 'lightbulb' because of the shape) because he was a civilian.<br/>[4] The de Havilland Dragon took six passengers, and was being used by the military for parachute jumps in the 1960s.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>[1] Atlantis Bookshop is the oldest independent occult bookshop in London.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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